


Battle of the Bands

by antimorston



Category: Marvel Cinematic Universe, The Avengers (Marvel Movies), Thor (Movies)
Genre: M/M, Mutual Pining, battle of the fuckin bands babey!!!!!!!!!!, subtle brunnhilde/sif at the end :3c, tw smoking mention
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2019-03-08
Updated: 2019-03-08
Packaged: 2019-11-13 16:46:51
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 2,542
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/18035390
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/antimorston/pseuds/antimorston
Summary: When Bruce Banner and the rest of his band, Punch Nazis!, join a city-wide battle of the bands, he doesn't expect to be so enraptured by their rivals, and specifically, the rival guitarist.





	Battle of the Bands

**Author's Note:**

> HELLO EVERYONE! i made a new ao3 because some irl friends of mine read some of my old stuff and i Was Not About That!  
> Hope everyone enjoys :)

Bruce wiped a bead of sweat from his brow. Even though the set hadn’t yet started, the room was humid and smelled of cigarette smoke. He hated it. Open amphitheater concerts were what he vastly preferred, but those were hard to come by, especially at this time of year. His November layers lay backstage in a heap, piled on top of his car keys and Steve’s phone. 

“Hello, everyone,” their band’s lead singer, who went by the stage name Valkyrie, greeted. Bruce drew himself out of his thoughts, giving the crowd a toothy grin. “We’re Punch Nazis! and we hope you enjoy our show.” She gave a whoop and produced a flask from her belt, waving at Bruce to count off. 

He did, his sticks hitting the snare hard for the opening beat. Everything else went quiet in his mind as they played for the fifteen minute set, almost making him forget that this was their audition for battle of the bands. He refused to acknowledge, and by extent, get anxious over—that though, because he didn’t want to be the reason they didn’t make it. Sam and Steve strummed like this was life or death, so Bruce did the same, giving his performance an energy that he was unable to describe. He twirled his sticks between beats, double kicked the bass, and just generally turned things up a notch. Finally, it was over, and he was dripping in sweat, his arms and the backs of his shoulders burning. 

Steve leaned in close to his mic and thanked the audience, before encouraging them all to “go out and punch a Nazi tonight.” Bruce smiled and stood, tucking his sticks into the back pocket of his jeans. The band exited the stage together and was greeted by Bucky, Sam’s boyfriend and the band’s occasional second bass. When he felt like it. He clapped Steve on the shoulder, excitement rolling off of him in waves. 

“Guys, guys,” he said, waving at Brunnhilde to keep her from continuing backstage. “I think that that was the best I’ve seen you play.” His smile was huge, and Sam had to squeeze his hand just to get him to stop bouncing on his toes so violently. “I’m serious, the judge out there looked blown away!”

Bruce’s eyes widened. “You saw her?” 

“Yeah, of course I did!”

He blinked in faux surprise. “Oh, I thought you just stood back here and ogled Sam when you weren’t on stage.” Bucky turned red and pointed a finger menacingly at Bruce’s chest, though he was barely containing a laugh. 

“I’ll kill you, Banner. Don’t think I won’t.” Bruce had to bite his tongue to keep from snorting, and the two of them stared at each other in tense silence for a few seconds. 

Bucky was alright, Steve had dragged him to one of the first practices and everyone hit it off really well with him (especially Sam). Bruce couldn’t shake the feeling that he knew him from somewhere, though. Maybe he looked like his mom’s brother or something. He hadn’t seen his uncle in years, so maybe that was it. Looks aside, the dude was chill. He could play bass better than just about anyone Bruce had ever met and his stone cold, yet somehow still friendly, demeanor fit in well with the group’s dynamic. 

Bruce was the first to break, just as Sam started to hide his laughter from behind Bucky. Soon enough, the band was in happy shambles, the stress from their audition melting away in the hugs and shoves being exchanged. The next audition started, and Punch Nazis! moved farther backstage, where the sound from the set became warped and muted. Bruce liked the way it sounded back there, but it turned out Brunnhilde wanted to check out the competition, so they headed to the house, working their way through the thick crowd. 

The band that was auditioning was fronted by a kid in a bright red hoodie who couldn’t have been more than seventeen. They were good, though, and Bruce shifted around on his feet with anxiety as he thought about their chances of beating the other seven bands who would be allowed in. If their band even made it through auditions. 

He worried all through the next three auditions, his stomach twisting into knots and his head pounding. Steve gave him a knowing pat on the shoulder and leaned in close, the shitty stadium-style seat creaking loudly as he moved. “Bruce,” he whispered, eyes locked onto the stage, “we’ll make it in. Don’t worry.” Bruce gave a weak smile and nodded as his teeth started to grind together. Better to not get even more anxious, he reasoned silently. He let a shiver rack his body, even though he was still sweating from the heat and humidity in the venue. Sometimes the vibration helped to calm him down. This time the effect was mediocre, but he accepted it and focused his attention on the next band, which was coming on stage just at that moment. 

The band was composed of four people with long hair, though only two of them appeared to present as women. Bruce’s anxiety faded into the background as his interest was piqued. The lead singer, a tall, dark skinned man with long dreadlocks, looked into the audience with knowing eyes, his gaze steady even through the glaring stage lights. Bruce got uneasy looking at him, like the man knew every single one of his secrets, so he looked at a different member. She was seated at the drums, her dark hair pulled in a half-up, half-down ponytail. Bruce smiled, though he knew she couldn’t see him, and watched her technique for a few seconds before his eyes slid to the next member. Her hair was inky black and came about to her shoulders, and her acid green bass was covered with the decal of a snake. Her lips were curved in a mischievous smile, again making Bruce feel uneasy. 

He blinked. 

He had no idea why he all of a sudden was so interested in one of the rival bands. 

And then the guitarist started a solo, and Bruce’s attention was drawn in again. He hadn’t even heard the set starting, even when he was watching them all sing or play their instruments, until this. It wasn’t anything too fancy, no, but the solo finally broke through Bruce’s cloudy mind—and ears—to draw him back into reality. The guitar player, with his long blond hair, played like a god through the rest of the set, and Bruce knew, deep in his soul, that he would have to speak with these band members at some point during the competition, even though he was sure that they could grind his average playing ass under their heels. 

As soon as they left the stage, Bruce became restless again. He motioned to Steve that he had to go somewhere, and darted backstage before the band could leave. He didn’t know what he was going to say when he got to them, but his heart started to beat faster and faster as he passed crew members taking their instruments off stage. 

All of a sudden, he rammed into someone, and his heart stopped dead. It was the bassist, but she had put on a leather jacket since coming backstage. She sneered at him and he blurted a quick apology before stumbling over a compliment about her performance. 

She narrowed her eyes. “What’s your name?”

“Bruce,” he responded quickly. She intimidated him, a lot. “Bruce Banner.” The woman nodded, a smile starting to return to her lips. 

“I’m Loki,” she said, and Bruce waited for her to continue, but she didn’t. She just stood there, her eyebrow raised. 

“Well, I came back to tell your band that-” He paused, his tongue suddenly frozen. The guitarist had appeared behind Loki, and his bright grin was enough to make Bruce want to pass out right then and there. 

“‘That’?” Loki prompted, unaware of the man approaching. 

“Oh, uh,” Bruce stammered, “you guys did great.” 

She nodded again, practically oozing suspicion. “Thank you, Bryce.” He didn’t dare correct her. He nodded and gave a small smile, turning quickly to return to the audience. Bad idea, he told himself, as the guitarist asked Loki who he was. “He said his name was Bruce Banner,” he heard Loki say, and he felt a pang of confusion. Had she said the wrong name to intimidate him even further?

If so, it had worked. 

* * *

After auditions, Punch Nazis! was apprehensive. Many bands that they had seen were fantastic, and the band’s insecurity in their sound kept them assuming the worst. The official webpage of the Battle of the Bands was supposed to update with the bands who had made it late the next day, so the members of Bruce’s band gathered in Bucky and Sam’s apartment to have a “depression party,” as Bucky called it.

Steve aggressively shoved his tortilla chip into the guacamole that Brunnhilde had brought as he watched the rest of the group refresh Bruce’s laptop over and over. 

“Guys,” Bruce whispered half-heartedly, “you’re going to break her.” He closed his eyes and listened to the excruciating noise of the group slamming their fingers onto the touchpad. 

Then, it stopped. He heard a gasp, then someone grabbed him, their fingers almost digging through his sweater. 

“ _ Bruce _ ,” Sam said into his ear, “ _ look _ !”

So he did. And it may have just changed his life. 

* * *

The first round was held just a few days later, all eight bands crowded backstage of the same venue that they had auditioned in. Bruce was nominated by his friends to check which band they were competing against, but as he approached the paper with the listings on it, he saw Loki again, and froze in his step.

“Ah, hello, Bryce,” she said, walking closer. “It appears that you’ve made it in.”

Bruce nodded, his mouth suddenly dry. She was still trying to intimidate him? “And you as well, though I-” His mouth got even chalkier as the guitarist, yet again, started to walk up behind Loki. “-I knew you would. Your audition was fantastic,” he said quickly, having learned from last time. The guitarist made eye contact with him and appeared to start walking just a little bit faster, though Bruce may have been imagining it. He got there in no time, though, and that was a big problem. Bruce would have issues speaking in front of, or God forbid,  _ to _ , this man. 

“Bruce was your name, wasn’t it?” The guitarist asked, holding out a hand. Bruce snapped back to the moment, reaching briskly to accept the handshake. 

“Yeah, yeah. It’s Bruce.” He saw Loki roll her eyes with a flourish of the hand, and Thor’s eyes flicked to her for just a moment before he let go of Bruce’s hand. 

“Excuse my sister, she can be quite dramatic, both in the realm of ‘melo’ and ‘over.’” That earned a quiet laugh from Bruce, who suddenly felt the room around them quiet. 

_ Just like a rom-com, Bruce _ , he thought, smiling up at the still-stranger. 

“Oh!” Thor said after a beat. “How could I forget to tell you my name! I’m Thor Odinson, the guitarist in Battle Axes.”

* * *

“Bruce!” Steve called out as Bruce made his way back to the group. “Who are we versing?”

Bruce flopped into a worn leather chair and blinked at his band-mate. “What?” He asked. 

Brunnhilde stood and pointed at him. “Oh my God, you didn’t even check, did you?”

“Check what?” Bruce murmured, a warmth curling through his chest. 

“I’m going to go do it,” she responded, rolling her eyes and marching off quickly. 

She returned just under a minute later, her boots resounding dully on the concrete floor. “Guys,” she said, breathless, “we’re on in five.”

Despite almost being late for the very first round of the competition, things were going well. Bruce had a mild splinter from his first set of sticks cracking, but he had pulled another pair out without missing a beat. Literally. After the set, the band met backstage; apparently, a certain other fairly aggressively named band was just finishing their backstage meeting. Thor gave Bruce a thumbs up as Battle Axes took the stage for their performance. 

Bruce turned and watched him make sure his guitar was connected to the amp, but his vision was soon blocked by a very angry, alcoholic college dropout. “You could’ve lost this for us, Bruce.” He looked up at her and apologized sincerely, but his eyes wandered back down to the stage, where a man with long, golden hair played guitar like a god. “Oh dear Jesus, Bruce! Was it him?” Brunnhilde seemed angry again, and Bruce realized it was probably because of all of the staring. 

“Yeah,” he admitted meekly. “It was. Sorry.” 

She sighed and started to walk away, gently knocking her hand on the back of his head. “You can’t date him until we wipe the floor with their band. You got it?”

Bruce got it. 

* * *

_ Now, all of this background has led us to one place: the present. _

Bruce wiped his brow and set the drumsticks across the rim of his snare, picking up the decorational set and wedging them into the back pocket of his jeans. Final sets were over, and now it was time to be judged: Punch Nazis! vs Battle Axes. The two bands lined up next to each other, and Bruce watched as Brunnhilde smiled at Sif across the stage. Looked like she finally got over the “mortal enemies” thing. He took his chance to look over at Thor before things got bad for one of them, only to see Thor already looking at him. Thor raised his hand in a “call me?” gesture, almost making Bruce laugh out loud in front of the judges. However, he knew this was going to happen because of all of the times they had snuck into the green rooms to talk in a quiet place and sat on broken amps backstage to tell each other jokes. Calling each other post-competition was the crucial next step.

Bruce subtly asked Bucky to switch him places in the line-up, and Thor started making his way toward the center as well, until they were only a foot or so away from each other. Bruce pulled the drumsticks out and handed them over, watching the way Thor’s face scrunched up when he saw the ten digit number scrawled on both of them. 

“So,” he said, leaning in so that Bruce could hear him, “I guess it is I who will be doing the calling.” Bruce laughed, motioning to the sticks. 

“Sure hope you don’t break both of those, too,” he jabbed, earning a gasp. 

“I thought you said you’d never talk about that again!” Thor accused, though there was no real bite. Bruce shrugged, his attention suddenly being snagged by a judge walking up to the microphone. 

“Alright, everyone. It was very close between these two fantastic bands, but the winner of the New York City Annual Battle of the Bands is-”

Bruce didn’t hear the winner, as he was too busy telling Thor that the event desperately needed a shorter title. 

**Author's Note:**

> My tumblr is [colorblindsteverogers](https://www.colorblindsteverogers.tumblr.com) if ur interested in my many other thorbruce ramblings! Have a good morning/day/night!


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